Chapter 8

"I'm... dying..."

"Get on the ground! How are you going to win if you move like a snail! If they're going to screw you, shut up and stop running!"

"You... bitch..."

"Stop complaining and lift your knees higher! You inherited such beautiful legs from your mother, and you're going to let them rot?"

"If your mother saw this mess right now, she'd be in hell!"

"Don't be so mean, idiot!"

The training continues.

=***=

Starting with the sports drink with water droplets on the surface, the energy bars stacked on the table, the neatly ironed spare gym clothes, and the gleaming spare horseshoes. Inside the small but well-equipped waiting room, a girl sitting on a makeshift metal chair gulps down a light green drink. Then, a thick, curly, light brown hair stuck to her right cheek, drenched in sweat.

"Are you there, Diner?"

In the space where only the girl stood solemnly, a couple of knocks were heard, and a middle-aged man with a slightly precarious hairline walked in.

Diner slowly put down the drink she was drinking and stared at the man, her coach.

"I'm busy checking up on the run I did a little while ago. What brings you here?"

"It's nothing. I just have something to tell you."

"What is it?"

"The conditional match you're participating in this time. It seems Tamamo Cross is also participating."

"Huh? Tamamo Cross?"

At the sudden mention of that name, an image of the woman who had played the prank on him a few weeks ago flashed through Diner's mind. Small, like a child, with dull gray hair like burnt ash. Blue eyes filled with the audacity of a commoner.

"Yeah, I just checked the entry list and her name was on it."

"So... what do you want me to do?"

"Hmm? You don't mind? We were on the same team until recently."

On the same team? Me, with that woman? That's not funny at all. Even though they were on the same team, he'd never considered her a comrade. Far from being a comrade, she'd always been his enemy.

Diner scoffed, continuing the leisurely conversation.

"It doesn't bother me at all. So please don't bother me with unnecessary things. For starters, that woman came seventh in her debut, and despite competing in the conditional races, it's a trifle that she's only won once? Are you saying I should be careful with trifles like that?"

"I didn't say much. It's just that I was worried it would bother you."

"Oh, she's a mediocre runner anyway. She's a woman you won't be seeing on the track anytime soon."

"I see... Well, then I'm leaving so as not to be bothered."

The middle-aged trainer closed the door with a sheepish expression and disappeared.

Diner tapped the plastic bottle's cap with the tip of her fingernail and stared at the closed door. She'd been pouring all her energy into training for some time now, but the sudden appearance of your uncomfortable face made her very uncomfortable. Seriously, you're making me worry so much about a bug.

"Tamamo Cross... Even after all the warnings, you're still a brat who just can't quit."

At this point, it's a shame she doesn't know her place. She's not even an elite runner, and she's struggling even in the meager qualifying category. Does she really think she can make it as a runner? I knew she was stupid from the start, but I never thought it would be this bad. This is even more ridiculous than the domestic comedies that have surpassed 10 million viewers.

Talent, of course, is her own thing. With an impressive record of 3 wins out of 7 starts, and two of those four losses coming in second place. Unlike that woman who just rambles on without knowing what she's doing, she possesses talent as a runner. Her performance, and no other, proves it. And her talent isn't limited to the qualifiers...

"Okay, your time is... 2 minutes and 2 seconds! Amazing, Tamamo Cross! On the other hand, Dinah Carpenter... she's not finished yet."

"What an incredible sprint, Tamamo Cross! Dinah Carpenter, who was our best before you came, couldn't even match it."

"Haha, from now on, Team Ladder's ace is..."

Damn! A terrible memory flashed through my mind, and I gritted my back teeth unconsciously. Dyna's eyes, which had been slightly curved a moment ago, sharpened. The plastic bottle she was holding was crushed.

I'll never forget the resentment I felt when a rock suddenly rolled down and knocked me off my spot, leaving me like cold rice. Even now, when I think I've completely overcome it, she still occasionally appears before my eyes in the form of nightmares. That damned woman who knocked me off my ace spot the moment she appeared.

Let's stop denying this horrible reality. Unlike me, who was born with neither talent nor pedigree, this woman possessed both. Although she had never won a G1, she was said to be unsurpassed in running agility, daughter of the famous "White Lightning" Sivi Cross. As if to prove they shared his lineage, her incredible acceleration. His background and natural physique were incomparable to hers, the daughter of a simple carpenter. It was only natural that such a monster would secure the ace position on a team not affiliated with Tressen Academy, but a private one.

Knowing this well, at first he tried to suppress his anger. After all, all he could do was prove his worth through hard work. He firmly believed that hard work never betrayed him.

"What the hell? You failed the Tressen entrance exam too? Haha! You're a comrade!"

But he couldn't contain the rage that surged through him every time he saw that woman's carefree face. Every time that detestable voice calling him "comrade" pierced his eardrums, he felt like destroying her. What? Did you oversleep on the day of the practical exam and miss your chance at Tressen Academy? Every time he saw her smirk, he felt like suppressing the urge to kill that tormented him.

Unlike me, who had everything, unlike me, who had nothing as a racer, unlike me, unlike me, unlike me, unlike me, unlike me, unlike me, unlike me, unlike me, unlike me, unlike me, unlike me, unlike me, unlike me.

'Ahh-

So, before his debut, I secretly changed the soles of his shoes. They were worn, scuffed, and cracked, ready to break at any moment. And as expected, the soles couldn't keep up with his powerful pace, and he fell hard during the race, suddenly breaking the sole. He needed four weeks to recover. But if he'd made a few more mistakes, he could have been hospitalized for months. What a shame. Perhaps it was because the soles broke on the final stretch. From then on, he couldn't reach his top speed in that stretch. He just staggered around nonstop, seemingly on the verge of gaining speed.

For someone who prided himself on his fast-running strategy, to be unable to accelerate on the final stretch? Needless to say, that was fatal to a career.

"Hmm, I guess I braked too hard."

But no matter how hard I stomped on him, he always got back up and attacked me with incredible determination. One corner of Dyna's mouth twitched. Back then, he'd resorted to such dirty tricks because he hadn't the slightest confidence in winning. But his helplessness back then was different from now.

He's strong. He used to be weak, but he's become so strong that no one can look down on him. No one on the team dares to keep up with him anymore, and judging by his training times, he could easily win a championship in a mid-sized event, let alone a sprint. And him, losing to that kid who couldn't even run well?

"Haha, how ridiculous."

Maybe in a Grand Prix, but he wouldn't lose in a sprint. That belief, like a conviction, was firmly rooted in Dyna's mind.